


Alliance

by LazuliQuetzal



Series: those nighttime escapades [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Tim Drake is Oracle's Sidekick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:19:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazuliQuetzal/pseuds/LazuliQuetzal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim pisses Jason off, breaks the Batmobile, and goes on a motorcycle ride with Damian.</p>
<p>Not necessarily in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alliance

It was inevitable, perhaps. Throw Tim and Damian into the Batcave armed with various weapons, and you end up with a flat tire. It was like science. Or math.

It happened like this:

Tim stopped by the Batcave to go through a few old mission reports for Barbara. The work was monotonously easy and not requiring much focus. Which was good, because half of his attention was on keeping the resident Robin at bay with scathing insults and occasionally deflecting a batarang. Why Damian was in the Cave in the first place, Tim wasn't sure, but after nearly an hour of arguments it grew into a matter of pride for both of them. Neither would get up and leave the Cave. To do so would be admitting defeat.

Tim  _was not_ going to lose to a ten year old brat.

So they sat there, snarking and arguing, when Damian casually flicked another batarang in the direction of Tim's face.

With practiced ease (this had gone on for quite some time) the teenager lifted his bo staff just so, sending the projectile spinning off to one of the dark recesses of the cave.

"Are you done trying to kill me?" Tim asked irritably. He gestured to the reports he was attempting to read. "As you can see, I'm trying to get some work done."

"If I were trying to kill you, you'd be dead," Damian snapped back. "And if you loathe my company so much, you could just take those files and leave my house."

"One, Bruce has it set up so these files can't exit this room," Tim said offhandedly. "Two, I'm not leaving because of an annoying demon brat like you."

Damian crossed his arms. "This annoying 'demon brat' could kick your ass."

"Don't let Alfred hear you say that."

Damian snorted.

Tim glanced up from his work and studied Damian with a cautious expression. "Are you... bored?" he wondered aloud. He couldn't exactly think of a reason for Damian's presence in the first place.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Tt. Your presence bores me."

Yep, he was bored. Bruce was likely doing CEO things and as awesome as Alfred was, he probably couldn't satisfy Damian's need for action. The kid must have come down to pick a fight.

Tim turned back to his work. Damian flicked his eyes up, annoyed. He reached into his weapons belt.

"Don't throw that at me," Tim requested, but there was a warning note in his voice. He was losing patience. In all honesty, it was a miracle he lasted this long.

Damian's eyes narrowed. He threw the batarang.

Like lightning, Tim was on his feet, twirling his bo staff. He deflected the batarang, watching as it flew back towards Damian. The boy moved, though it was unnecessary - it landed at his feet.

"Do that again and it'll land somewhere worse," Tim threatened.

Damian grinned, as though he knew what buttons he was pressing and was getting exactly the reaction he hoped for. "You couldn't hit me if you tried."

It shouldn't have gotten under his skin, but Tim was feeling extra irritated today. "You want to find out?" Tim growled, knowing he was walking into Damian's trap and not particularly caring.

Damian smirked. "With pleasure."

In a heartbeat, they were a tangle of fists and weapons. Tim didn't hold back - he couldn't. Damian was trained by the finest assassins in the world, and Tim was a upper class kid with eight months of miscellaneous self defense training. He gave everything he got, even managing to land a solid whack on Damian's jaw with his staff, although the brat knocked the air out of him with a kick to his gut a few seconds later.

Within two minutes, Tim was kneeling on the ground, leaning on his staff, and trying to catch his breath. He could feel the new bruises forming across his body - thanks to the spawn from hell.

"Pathetic, Drake," Damian sneered, twirling a knife around his fingers. "I've seen petty muggers put up better fights than you."

"Now that's just rude," Tim choked out between breaths. He glanced up - just in time to see the throwing knife aimed for his shoulder.

Quickly, he brought up his staff, more reflex than a conscious action, The knife hit the solid metal, and with a resounding clang, it ricocheted off to his right - right towards the Batmobile.

Tim's eyes widened. The knife seemed to be moving in slow motion - up until it sank hilt deep into the front right wheel of Batman's vehicle of choice.

Oh  _shit._

For a moment, the cave was completely still. Damian and Tim gazed at the knife stuck into the wheel with wide, horrified eyes.

And then - "Drake, you  _imbecile!_ "

"Me?! You're the one who threw that knife!"

"Clearly you're more useless than I thought if you don't know how to properly deflect a projectile!"

"You already beat me, you obviously didn't have to throw it! Why the hell are you trying to pin this on me?!"

Damian opened his mouth to retaliate when the sound of a door opening echoed throughout the Cave. Moving as a unit, Damian and Tim stood up and casually blocked the view of the deflating tire from the person on the stairs.

Bruce stood there, frowning as he saw them standing almost next to each other.

"...I trust you two are getting along?" he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Tim's expression was unnaturally blank. "We were, uh -"

"Sparring," Damian interrupted.

Bruce noted his son's disheveled appearance and a small cut on Tim's forearm.

He sighed. "Please don't hurt each other too badly."

Damian snorted. "As if Drake could injure me."

Partially to shut him up, and partially to keep up appearances, Tim jabbed his elbow into the soft spot of Damian's side. The boy winced and stomped on Tim's foot.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to be out of town for the next few hours, but I'll be back in time for patrol."

"Yes. Father."

"And speaking of patrol - Damian, prep the Batmobile for me. I'll be using it tonight."

Bruce turned around and exited the Cave with a heavy sigh, unable to see the panicked faces behind him.

"Of course, Father."

The door clicked shut.

"Damn it, Drake -"

"If you try and blame this on me  _one_  more time, I  _swear_ -" Tim cut himself off and took a deep breath. "Never mind. Let's just get this over with. Where does Bruce keep the spare tire?"

Damian was silent for a moment. And then -

"We replaced a tire last week after an incident with Ivy. The tires are custom made and we have a few more on order."

Of  _course_ they did.

Tim closed his eyes, thinking hard. "Okay, then. Let's call up Jason, and -"

"Todd?" Damian frowned. "Why the hell would we call Todd?"

"You have heard the story of how he became Robin, right?" Tim asked. "He took the tires off the Batmobile. I bet he has a few tires just for nostalgia or whatever. At the very least, he could help us hijack the tire order or something."

Damian scowled. "I'm not asking  _Todd_ for help."

Tim crossed his arms. "You have a better idea?"

There was a pause as both of them stopped to think of what they could do.

Suddenly, Damian looked up - part mischief, part challenge. His grin was ferocious. Tim had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"We're going to steal from him."

"We don't actually know if he has a Batmobile tire or not," Tim pointed out. "That was just speculation."

"He has a motorcycle that uses the same tires," Damian explained. "I just remembered."

Tim face palmed. "Of  _course_  he does," he groaned.

"Well, it's decided then. My plan is obviously superior," Damian announced. "Let's do it."

"What? No!" Tim protested. "We're not stealing from the Red Hood!"

"Are you a  _coward?_ " Damian asked, already heading to his Redbird.

"I  _am_  a coward," Tim snapped. "Jason  _kills_  people!"

"You just suggested asking him for help," Damian rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but asking him doesn't involve  _breaking into his house and pissing off the dude with a bunch of guns._ "

Damian pulled out a motorcycle helmet and looked up. He lifted an eyebrow. "Are you coming?"

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not.

_No way._ Tim was  _not_  going to deal with this today.

* * *

"Why the fuck am I here?" Tim grumbled.

"Don't let Alfred hear you say that," Damian taunted even as he peered through the binoculars.

They were crouched up on a rooftop in view of one of the Red Hood's safe houses, one of the few that had a garage. Damian and Tim had declared a temporary truce - they'd get in, get the tires, and fix the Batmobile. Damian's Redbird (and how embarrassing is it to let the ten year old drive?) had a sidecar attached to fill with any tires or potentially useful crap they might manage to get from Jason's safe house.

And then afterwards, they would never speak of this incident ever again.

"The security system's pathetic," Damian commented. "Should be easy for you to get inside, if you learned anything from Oracle."

"I'm the one going in?" Tim asked, slightly annoyed at the insult but ignoring it in favor of the mission.

"You practiced stealth under Black Bat, did you not?" Damian asked.

If he didn't know any better that could almost be taken as a compliment. Except for the fact that this was definitely revenge for everything Tim had ever done to the kid, real or imagined.

"Fine," Tim conceded. "Wait with the Redbird near his garage. I might have to roll out the tire to you."

Damian scowled at the command, but nodded. Tim let out a breath and slipped down the side of the building, landing almost silently a few feet from the door. After a quick scan for motion detectors, which he easily slipped past, Tim got to work on picking the locks and cracking the codes to Jason's safe house. After a few moments, he made a quick hand signal to Damian who was still on the roof.

He was in.

Jason's apartment was both cleaner and and messier than Tim expected. The kitchen was completely organized, and the floors were swept, although that could be attributed to the fact that Red Hood switched safe houses a lot and probably didn't come here often. Except…

Clothes were haphazardly littered across the floors. Frowning, Tim checked the living room. A pair of black combat boots were strewn across the coffee table, along with an empty Coca-Cola can.

Tim resisted the urge to groan. Of  _course_  he was home. Could this day get any worse?

After locking the door behind him, Tim slipped through the house as silently as he could. He glanced at the doors. One of them had a deadbolt lock on it, although it was unlocked.

Tim opened it. Oh good - he found the garage.

Tim went inside and immediately started searching. It was fairly empty, with cabinets on the sides and a motorcycle in the middle of the room. The only things Tim came across in the cabinets were a generic toolbox and some wiring stuff. He frowned when he came across a cabinet filled entirely with guns.

_I'm a murderer, I'm not heartless._

Tim returned to looking for tires. He checked under a few tables, behind the water heater, and behind the cabinets before he finally looked up and saw a tire wedged between a cabinet and the ceiling.

_Please be the right tire._  Tim grabbed a convenient step stool and reached up. It was heavy - it took a good amount of shaking and cursing to get it off of the top of the cabinet. Tim managed to dislodge it completely and everything was going well.

Until he lost his balance and landed on his butt. There was a heavy crash as the tire hit a cabinet, sending all the tools flying in every direction.

The distant sound of Jason cursing and getting out of bed shocked Tim into action.

With a quick glance at the tire (oh thank  _God,_  it's the correct one) he slammed his hand on the garage door opener and rolled it out into the driveway.

"What the hell?" Damian asked. "What happened to stealth-"

Tim shoved the tire into the sidecar, grabbed his helmet, and hopped on the back of the motorcycle. "Drive drive drive!"

The garage door burst open. Tim had a blurry glance at a disheveled looking Jason Todd before Damian revved the motorcycle. They sped through the streets, leaving Jason in the dust.

Or so they thought.

Tim twisted his head around and flinched. Jason was on his own motorcycle, a few hundred feet away and getting closer.

"Damn it," Tim hissed.

"Once again -" Damian began, and Tim could hear the sneer without even looking at the brat's face.

Tim cut him off. "I  _know_! It's my fault! Drive!"

Damian pulled a sharp left turn. Tim checked - the tire was still in the sidecar. He turned around again, and Jason was still on their tail.

Jason yelled something that Tim couldn't hear, thanks to the roar of the wind in his ears. He probably didn't want to hear it anyway.

Damian did his best, speeding through the noontime traffic and taking the twistiest path he could. But Jason was taught by Batman, too, and he kept on their tail the whole time. Tim scanned the road ahead, desperately searching for shortcuts.

His eyes landed on a side street, a few hundred feet away.

"Take a right over there!" Tim yelled in Damian's ear.

"Right? That's a dead end alleyway!" Damian protested.

"I've been running through Gotham since you were in diapers," Tim snapped. "Right!"

"I can't believe I'm listening to the imbecile," Damian muttered. He took the turn.

The alley was a dead end - ending in a brick wall five feet high that no motorcycle could burst through, but Tim knew what he was doing. As Damian drove, he pulled out his staff and held it out like a lance. The staff toppled over a thick plywood board leaning against a dumpster. It fell out in front of them, creating a makeshift ramp.

Tim could hear Jason's motorcycle behind them. "Go!"

Damian didn't argue. He sped onto the ramp. Tim winced as the board cracked underneath the weight of the motorcycle, but Damian only pressed harder - and suddenly they were over the wall, clumsily landing on an empty street and speeding off toward Wayne Manor.

As they drove away, Tim turned around. Jason was not behind them. The ramp probably broke under the weight of the other man's motorcycle.

"How'd you know that board was there?" Damian asked.

"I set it up just in case," Tim said.

It had actually been there since before he got tangled up with Oracle. Just in case he needed to make a quick getaway on his skateboard. Or motorcycle, apparently.

"You think Bruce is back yet?" Tim wondered aloud.

"He'd better not be," Damian muttered. "He threatened to ground me if he caught me sneaking out one more time."

Despite himself, Tim laughed. The idea of Batman grounding Robin was just too ludicrous to comprehend.

Damian swerved unexpectedly. Tim had to grasp the sides of the motorcycle to keep from falling off. He shut up.

Yes, he did know how to take a hint.

* * *

After they replaced the ruined tire, Tim left. He didn't see Damian again until three days later, when he was sitting on the edge of a rooftop, going through his camera.

He tensed when he caught the sound of a cape flapping through the wind, and he didn't relax even when he recognized the figure.

Tim never let his guard down around Damian. To him, the kid seemed ready to snap at any moment.

"So you're not grounded, huh?" Tim asked casually.

"No," Damian replied. "Batman did not discover our unfortunate… escapade."

"Good," Tim said. He'd heard Bruce and Barbara argue before. He didn't know how his mentor even found the courage to yell in the Dark Knight's stone cold face. He didn't want to be subjected to that.

There was a silence, though Tim hesitated to call it awkward. But it definitely wasn't comfortable.

"Uh, good driving," Tim spoke up. "With the motorcycle."

Damian glared at him through his domino mask. "Don't act all Nightwing with me."

Tim screwed up his face in disgust. He didn't understand how Dick could be so friendly and outgoing all the time. Even with the Demon Spawn, of all people. " _Never._ "

"I'm here to inform you that the truce we enacted during the incident is now over," Damian informed him.

"What incident?" Tim replied automatically.

"Of course," Damian nodded. He turned away, getting ready to leap off the roof and grapple his way across Gotham. Tim turned back to his camera.

"Be careful," he said absently. It was what he said to Steph whenever she ran off to do Batgirl things in the middle of class.

Behind him, Damian stiffened. He wasn't expecting that from  _Drake_. He turned to shoot the teen with a confused glare, but Tim was oblivious as he sorted through his photos.

"Drake," Damian said suddenly.

Tim glanced up.

Damian paused, his face unreadable. "Try not to do anything stupid tonight," he said, finally. And then, in a flash of yellow and red and green, he was gone.

Coming from Damian, that was about the equivalent of a hug. Tim stared, watching Robin as he flew away, ready to take on Gotham.

Damian was a little shit, but he did have  _some_ semblance of a human personality, Tim decided.

* * *

After sending his son to bed, Bruce came down into the living room, where Alfred was sitting with two cups of tea.

Alfred handed him one and Bruce took it gratefully.

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce said.

"Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, almost humming.

There was a pause. "For the idea, too," he added. "I wasn't sure it would actually work."

Alfred lifted an eyebrow.

"Of course, your plans always work," Bruce said somewhat sheepishly.

"I found it quite amusing that both Damian and Tim thought you didn't have backup tires," Alfred said, as he sipped his own cup of tea.

Bruce snorted. "You'd think they'd find it suspicious that I wasn't prepared with a spare."

"I suppose their fear of punishment overrode their sense of logic," Alfred commented. "They could get along quite well, if they tried."

Bruce grinned. "Get along? Maybe not. But they'd make one hell of a team. Did you know that Tim covered up the footage of the fight and of fixing the tire? He edited in a video of an empty Cave. If I didn't know what happened, I never would've found out."

"Damian was quite thorough, as well," Alfred said. "He even went the extra mile to make the tire look about as worn down as the others."

"That's my boy," Bruce said, a proud tone in his voice. "Although, he definitely won't be working any cases in Jason's territory anytime soon."

"No, I suppose not," Alfred agreed. "And I suppose we'll have to send a spare tire to Master Jason."

Bruce sighed and placed his head in his hands. "Yes," he said. "I suppose we do."

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on fanfiction.net


End file.
